


Bad Medicine

by TheDeadlyViper



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Drug Addiction, Hurt Bucky Barnes, M/M, Mild Smut, Slow Burn, Strong Language, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-07-28 21:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16250363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDeadlyViper/pseuds/TheDeadlyViper
Summary: Modern AU where Bucky is a street hustling ex-Army junkie and Steve is a former combat medic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, here's the thing. I really liked the concept  
> of my original Bad Medicine but it really needed updating. This works so much better as an modern-era fic. For anyone who read the original, I hope you enjoy this re-written version that I'm working so hard on. I'm actually in recovery myself and it hits pretty close to home. Thanks for all the support!!

 "Uhm, excuse me." Steve says to the form huddled directly on landing to the stairs leading to his door. He can't tell if it's a man or woman, curled up as they are with their head resting on top of folded arms. Steve

clears his throat.

" **Excuse me."** he repeats, more loudly. When the figure finally lifts their head, he can see it's a guy. Probably in his mid-to-late twenties. He's got chin-length reddish-brown hair and similar colored

stubble along a nice, sharp jawline. He's got a dirty jean jacket over a probably filthier dark hoodie and jeans that are frayed at the cuff. And when his eyes blink open, Steve notices a flash of startling aqua, right before the

eyes go back to barely being open. 

"Huh." The guy mumbles and the head drops once more into his arms. Steve gives a sigh and sets down his armful of grocery bags. He leans over and gives the guy's shoulder a nudge. 

"Hey, pal. You mind movin'? You're right in front of my door." The guy doesn't say anything, but he does scoot over a few inches, closer to the railing so Steve can squeeze through. Steve's apartment isn't

on the greatest side of the city. He's used to stepping over junkies on the sidewalk, but very rarely right up on his door step. He's busy twisting his key in the lock when he hears a voice from behind him. 

"Suck ya off for fifty bucks." Steve glances over his shoulder. The guy is pulling himself up, using the railing for support and still teetering a little. Steve turns back to the door and it opens with a click.

"No thanks." He replies shortly. 

"Forty?" Steve rolls his eyes as he steps inside. 

"No." He closes the door firmly on the guy.

As he puts his purchases away in the cabinets, he wonders how desperate he must look. Sure, it's been awhile. But not long enough for him to pay a street hustler for a back alley blow job. It's the last thought he

gives to the guy until the following afternoon when he comes home and the junked up prostitute is in the exact same spot. 

"Jesus Christ." Steve mutters. They more or less go through the same script. Steve asks him to move. The guy propositions him. Steve says no and goes inside. When Steve goes out in the morning to go on his daily run, the

guy is still there. This time his back is up against the railing and his legs are stretched out in front of him and Steve guesses he'd slept there all night. He goes back inside quietly and pours

leftover coffee from the carafe and carries it outside. The guy thanks him when Steve wakes him by pressing the steaming cup into his hands.

"Just leave the cup there when you're done." He says as he steps past him.

"I'll get it on my way back." 

They go on like this for a couple more days until one day Steve comes home and the guy is there, but he doesn't say a word as Steve passes. He notices the guy has got

his left arm wrapped up in his jacket in his lap and he's rocking back and fourth, cradling the thing. Steve pauses, almost goes inside, 

then backtracks and goes to crouch down next to the squatter. He gives his shoulder a slight tap. 

"Hey buddy. You okay?" He asks and when the guy looks up he gives a pained expression, chewing his lip slightly. 

"Arm hurts." He says, his jaw tight. He starts to rock again. 

"Want me to take a look?" Steve offers. The guy stops moving and looks over again.

"You a doctor or somethin'?" He asks. 

"Or somethin'." Steve replies. "EMT. Actually. Used to be a combat medic, though. Up until a few months ago." He holds out his hand, waiting until the guy takes it and helps himstand.

"Me too. I mean. I'm ex-military too. Not the medic part." He walks the guy up the couple of stairs and inside the apartment. 

"Yeah? What's your name?" Steve asks as he pulls out a kitchen chair and gestures to it.

"James." He says. Then quickly, "Bucky. Just Bucky." Steve pulls up his own seat.

"Well, I'm Steve. Should we take a look, Just Bucky?" Bucky nods and cringes as he unwraps the jacket and reaches for Steve's waiting hand. Steve stretches his arm across the table, carefully rolling up the sleeve of the hoodie. 

It was a good thing he had combat experience. The inside of his arm is purple and blue with tracks. Just off center to his elbow is a red, swollen spot, leaking pus. Steve carefully touches the edge of it and the skin around

it is hot. Bucky nearly screams. He bites down on his tongue and whimpers in his throat. 

"Yeah, that's pretty infected." Steve says as he looks up. "I can clean it. But you need an actual doctor, pal." 

"Ready?" Steve asks after he's gotten the first-aid kit from beneath the bathroom sinkand he's once again holding down Bucky's infected arm. Bucky swallows hard and nods. When Steve dips a cotton pad in peroxide and

presses it  hard against the wound, Bucky's vision swims.

To his credit, he doesn't scream the house down but he does grip the edge of the table with his opposite hand hard enough that there's a sharp cracking noise. Steve quickly starts swabbing, hard. Bucky gasps.

His stomach heaves. He leans over his side and throws up. Thank God his stomach is pretty much empty. He heaves dryly a couple of times before it stops. Steve has already gotten up and gotten a few tissues and he hands

them over.

"Sorry." Bucky mutters. Steve reaches over to pat his back.

"I've seen worse." He promises. "Wanna finish up?"

Steve talks while he dabs antibiotic cream on his elbow. "So, you said you're ex-military too?"

"Mm." Bucky dips a finger into his collar, pulling up the clinking tags. "It's actually Sergeant Barnes. Three-two-five-five-seven-zero-three-eight." Steve glances over at him for a minute before reaching for a gauze

square. 

"Didn't believe you at first." He says.

"You wouldn't be the first." Bucky replies. 

"How long?" Steve asks as he winds tape around his arm.

"S-six months." Bucky stammers. "Took a bullet to the knee. Missed an artery by a centimeter." Finally, Steve leans back to inspect his handiwork. 

"Better?"

Bucky nods.

"Spend the night?" Steve asks, without looking up. Bucky considers it. 

"With or without the blow job?" 

"Without." Bucky shrugs.

"Fine. I guess." 

He can't stomach real food, but Steve gets him to take a mug of hot tea before he gets him set up on the fold-out sofa. Right after he closes his eyes, Bucky feels a butterfly-light kiss against his cheek.

"Night, Buck. Get some rest." Steve says as he dims the living room light. Steve is both disappointed and sadly unsurprised when he wakes in the morning and the sofa bed is empty, blanket folded up neatly in one corner.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm in love." Bucky says softly, drawing his cigarette up to his mouth and taking a slow drag. He holds it out to the skinny red-head whose likewise lying on her back next to him and they both gaze upward at the night

sky.

"Oh yeah?" She asks, taking the cigarette from his hand.

"Hope you used protection." Bucky gives a huff.

"Shut up, Tasha. He wasn't a trick. He was a...Army Medic" They are lying on the rooftop of their own rundown apartment. An apartment that Bucky's pension barely pays for. Natasha had been his roommate and

friend long before he went 'Over There.' They had grown upon the same block. It had been a rough couple of years for her too. James was her  best and only friend and she'd been

lost without him.

Now he was back, but all fucked up and wrong. She's horrified by his choices. And utterly powerless to stop it. Natasha didn't have a great many fears in life, but worse than the idea of losing Bucky, was

abandoning him in his time of need. Then losing him. So, she prays a lot. Drinks a ton. Then prays more. 

"Okay. Fine. Tell me about Doctor Sexy." She says.

"He's a blonde. Bluest eyes I've ever seen." He begins. "And he's  **huge.** I mean, jacked like you wouldn't believe. I passed out on his doorstep and he fixed my arm up." Natasha

sits up and takes a swig of the good Russian vodka. She's already got a good buzz going, but knows she won't stop until she passes out for the night. 

"Damn." She coughs on the burning liquid.

"Maybe I should try passing out on the doorsteps of hot guys." She gives a pause.

"So, no sex?" Bucky sits up and shakes his head.

"Nope. He's a hero type. All charm and manners." He rubs his arm lightly, lost in thought. "I feel kind of bad though. He let me sleep on his couch and I just booked it in the a.m. Didn't even leave a note."

Natasha grins and leans into him, lifting the bottle.

"Guess you got a good reason to go back

then."

Steve is surprised when he wakes up in the morning and the ex-soldier-turned-junkie is back in his familiar spot on his doorstep. He hasn't been around in a few days and he hadn't been there the night

before. When he closes the door behind him, Bucky stirs and stands up, swiping loose strands of hair from in front of his eyes. For a second, he's frozen to the spot as the blonde

looks him up and down.

"Hey." He says at last. A bit lamely. 

"Hi." Steve shifts. It's a chilly morning and he's got his dark blue jogging pants and his hoodie zipped up to the top. His breath

mists with cool condensation. "How's the arm?" Bucky gives a shrug.

"Okay. Still hurts like hell." He goes quiet again. "Sorry that I left like that." He swallows hard. "I had some stuff I had to do." Steve doesn't really want to think too hard on what that stuff was exactly. 

"Okay." He says. He's regretting it before it's even out of his mouth. "You want to come in?" Bucky smiles, nodding.

For awhile, they chat amicably about the Army over coffee.They talk shit about the Navy and Air Force and tell stupid stories. Then there's a lull in conversation and Steve says,

"You ever think about counseling?" Bucky gives a nod.

"All th' time. Twice a week. Rain or shine." He replies.

"Okay." Steve nods. "Ever think about treatment?" Bucky looks down into his cup.

"I... don't wanna... talk about that." Steve stares him down for awhile. Then stands up to get more coffee. 

"You'll catch a disease." He says as he pours.

"I don't fuck without rubbers. And I'd kill anyone who tried."

Steve sits back down. 

"You'll die." He says. Bucky's grip tightens around the mug handle.

"I don't wanna talk about it." He repeats in a voice barely above a whisper. Suddenly he's

up. Standing so fast the chair beneath him almost clatters to the floor. "I gotta go."

Steve stands too, moving fast to block his path. 

"Hey, wait. Just a minute." He goes to the kitchen and gets a pad of paper and pen from a drawer. He scrawls something down and tears the top page.

"My number." He says, holding the hot pink slip out to Bucky.

"Call me. If you need

anything." Bucky reluctantly takes it.

"Okay. I will." He says. Maybe.

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

"Lots of vets have drug problems." Sam Wilson says as he leans back into the park bench, still catching his breath. He and Steve meet most mornings to run, but Steve had been absent the past couple of days. It

hadn't taken him long to get it out of him.

"You know how it goes. Guy gets hurt. Docs pump him up with drugs. They cut him off. Pour some flashbacks and night terrors on top of that. You're lookin' at a perfect storm." He leans over to tighten his shoelace. "Count

your blessings that you don't got that kinda problem." He leans back again. "That doesn't mean I think you should get involved in any way." Steve sighs and balances his elbows on his knees. Though he thinks he generally

makes smart choices, he does bounce ideas off Sam. It's the closest he'll ever get to therapy himself. 

"Isn't there anything I can do? To help him?" Sam nods.

"Yep. Nothin'. You can do absolutely fuckin' nothin'." He says. "Look, man. Addicts either make it or they don't. And most don't. That's a fact. It's sad, yeah. But it's the truth. And you better wrap your head around it

now. Before you go gettin' hurt." Too late, Steve thinks. 

A couple more days go by before Bucky turns up again. This time when he shows up, he looks worse. Paler. Darker circles beneath those incredible blue-green eyes. He stands under the light pouring from Steve's apartment

and he's not even high, but when the blonde greets him, he has a hard time putting words together. 

"Bucky? Are you okay?" Steve asks. Bucky has to hold onto the railing to stay standing. 

"Yeah. I..." He runs a hand through damp hair. "Can I just stay here? Tonight?"  Steve speaks without thinking. 

"Yeah. Sure. Okay. Come on in." He opens the door. "You look pretty rough." He says as Bucky follows him inside. 

"Yeah. Had a hard couple of days." He says. His head is full of fuzz and he can't think fast enough. 

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Steve asks. "Can I - " Bucky shakes his head fervently.

"No. I'm..." He fights down a shiver. "Cold. Can I have a blanket?" 

"Yeah, okay." Steve guides the other man over to the sofa. "Just lay down." He goes to retrieve a blanket and pillow from his own bed. After he's got Bucky resting on his side with the blanket over him, he crouches down to

his level and smoothes a hand over his brow. He's spiking a pretty good fever. 

"You comin' down?" He asks. Bucky gives a soft groan in response. 

"Yeah." That had to be it. Never mind that it'd only been a couple of hours since his last hit.

"I'll - " He trembles a little. "I'll be okay. Just need some sleep." Steve hesitates before removing his hand. 

"Okay. You need anything, you just wake me up, okay?" He rubs his blanket-covered shoulder.

"Mm. Be fine." Bucky mumbles. 

Steve sits on the edge of the bed in the back bedroom without moving. Twice he peeps out into the darkness of the living room. The third time he does it, there's a glow beneath the edge of the bathroom

door in the otherwise dark room. Everything in him wants to charge out there and bust down the door. After a few minutes, he walks out to sit on the sofa and wait.

Bucky sits on the closed toilet seat, the needle clenched between his teeth. He manages to get the sleeve of his left arm rolled up past his elbow, but whimpers in pain as he slides the elastic band up around it. Despite

Steve's advice, he hasn't seen a doctor and the wound has gotten progressively worse. Angry, red lines streak up and down, radiating out from center. He braces his elbow between his knees and holds the needle, poised

above it with the opposite hand while he considers his options. He can try to shoot into the other arm and risk missing the shot, thus wasting it. Or he can hit the bad vein, causing unimaginable pain. He hears the slight

shifting noise in the living room and makes a decision. He does a quick countdown in his head.

**3...**

**2...**

**1...**

Everything happens fast. From his spot on the couch, Steve hears the stifled scream followed by a loud thump. He jumps up and bangs on the door and jiggles the handle and of course, it's locked. He doesn't think

long before giving the plywood a good few kicks. Thank God for old doors because it  the wood cracks easily. Another couple of kicks punch the hole the rest of the way through. He can barely get the door open  because of

Bucky's huddled form, limp  on the bathroom floor. He quickly gets down and doesn't even need to check his pulse. Bucky's breathing. Quick and shallow. Steve yanks his cellphone from his back pocket and dials a familiar

number with shaking fingers.

"9-1-1. What's your emergency?"


	4. Chapter 4

Seven minutes, Steve thinks, as he paces the ER lobby. Seven minutes. That's all it takes for the human brain to suffer permanent damage due to oxygen deprivation. Seven. Lousy. Minutes. It had probably taken the

ambulance at least twelve to get there. Another twelve to reach Mount Sinai. So, they were already up to twenty four. Not counting any procedure to stop the damage. Another uncomfortable forty five minutes tick by before

the doctor gestures Steve over.

Maria Hill is one of the two ER doctors currently on duty. And she's got a soft spot for Steve Rogers.

"I'm not going to ask how you're related. I don't want to know." She begins after the blonde ambles over to tower over her. "I am going to ask if you want the good or bad news first." Steve thinks.

"Good." 

"Okay. It wasn't an overdose." She says. "The bad news is that it's a systemic infection.  We'll pump him full of antibiotics. But he may or may not make it." Steve feels sick and dizzy. He'd told the guy to see a damn doctor.

He should  have checked it - he should have -

"How long, do you think?" He interrupts his own racing thoughts. 

"Tonight. If we get the fever under control and he wakes up, he'll probably pull through."

She says. Steve runs his hand through his hair. 

"Okay. I'm gonna be here. Let me know when I can - "

"Of course." For a moment, her stern demeanor breaks and she looks like she might hug him. Instead she gives a firm

nod and turns away.

"Oh fuck." Are the first words out of Bucky's mouth upon waking. Well, he means for them to be. Instead, what comes 

out is a low groan. He can't move much, but he can see white. White everywhere. White  light. White ceiling. The antiseptic smell tips him off. Right, he's in the hospital. He tries to place the reason why, but nothing comes

immediately. He gives another soft moan.  He's not actually in much pain. But he's desperately thirsty. There's noise to his right side. Blue eyes appear up above him. 

"Bucky?" That voice. It's familiar somehow. Oh. Steve. He can't sit up but he can move his arm a little. Wiggle his fingers. Much warmer fingers wrap around them. Then he's out again.

When he wakes for the second time, he has to repeat the memory jog process. Steve. Hospital. Thirsty. In that order. But this time he feels less dopey so that he struggles to scoot back, feeling the pull from a million

points of tubes and wires. The blonde mountain is dozing lightly in a chair next to his bed, but stirs when Bucky moves. 

"Hey." He greets as his opens his eyes and stretches. "How you feelin?" Bucky tips an invisible glass into his mouth. Steve quickly leans over for a cup of water on the table, helps him get the straw into his mouth.  

Bucky sucks greedily on the ice cold liquid until Steve warns him to not make himself sick. 

"What -" He begins to say in a raspy voice as Steve sets the cup back down. 

"Infection. The one in your arm?" Steve answers. "Got real bad. Turned into blood poisoning. You passed out." 

"Gross." Bucky mutters. And Steve actually laughs.

"Yeah, not a pretty thought." He pauses.  "Your...sister? Came by?" Bucky must have

looked confused because he goes on.

"Thin? Red hair? Top heavy?" 

"Not my sister." Bucky says automatically. 

"Well, she stopped by. Was pretty worried about you." This isn't actually the whole truth. In truth, she'd called Bucky a self-centered prick. Then she'd sat and talked with Steve  for over an hour. She'd fed him personal

details about their respective lives that she felt Steve had earned. That he hadn't always been this way. That he'd once been smart and funny and charming. Then he'd left for that mysterious 'over there' and come back

in pieces. Then she'd stopped for a minute and looked over at Steve.

"Can he maybe stay with you? Awhile? Can you help him? He likes you and he....he needs

help." Steve had gone quiet. Then said,

"He can stay. But I don't know if I can help him. That's up to him."  "How long? Before I can get - " Bucky starts to ask. 

"Couple of days." Steve says. Bucky makes a move like he's gonna rip himself free from the machines and IV but Steve stops him. 

"Hey, stop that. Okay?" He says and the guy just looks so worried that Bucky lets his hands drop and flops down back into

the hospital bed.

When Bucky is discharged a few days later, the car ride back is eerily silent. When they stop, before he can even unclick his seat belt, Steve stops him.

"Hey, before we get any further, there's something you need to know." He's still got his hands locked around the steering wheel, unmoving. "This - this is a one-time deal. Okay? I'm only gonna do this once. So, if you don't

want..." He pauses. "If you fuck up, then that's it. Then we're done." At that point, 

he finally looks over.

Bucky stares down at his lap and at last finally says,

"Okay." Because what else can he really say?


	5. Chapter 5

As Bucky surveys his surroundings, he realizes he notices details he's missed before. Like, for example, that Steve's apartment is painfully clean and organized. Or that there's artwork hung up on the walls. He stops in front

of a canvas that sits over the living room sofa. He gets so distracted,  he fails to hear Steve's footsteps creeping  up behind him until he asks,

"Do you like it?" Bucky nods. He does. It's not of anything. It's one of those abstract things. But the cool blues and greens make

him feel calm. 

"Tasha's an artist. I mean," he glances over his shoulder. "She's a waitress but, she's an artist. Who did it?" Ridiculously strong arms  come around him from behind and Steve

says,

"I did." Bucky can't help a slight scoff.

"You?" He doesn't seem like the type. He seems like the hit the gym twenty times a day and then straighten his underwear drawer type. 

"I did, actually." Steve says. "It helps me. Kind of focuses my mind when things get a little too crazy up there." He pauses. "Do you have

any hobbies like that?"

 Bucky's instant urge is to respond with something rude. It's actually a struggle to come up with a not rude response. 

"I like..." He wracks his brain, trying to think of things he had done before. Things that had made him happy. "I like to dance." 

"Yeah?" Steve's voice is a low rumble and he was close enough that Bucky can feel warm breath on the back of his neck. "Maybe we can do that, then. When you're feeling better." Bucky fights down an involuntary shiver.

Then just like that, the contact is gone.

Bucky learns an enormous amount about Steve in an incredibly short period of time. He learns that his middle name is Grant and that he's a Cancer. He learns that he'd had kind of a rough childhood. He'd been a

poor, skinny kid with asthma that he had (thankfully) grown out of. He's been on his own since he was twenty, having first lost his father before he could even remember, then his mother thereafter. He learns that besides

art he likes music. Mostly Motown and R&B that he likes to play in the evenings. He also learns that yes, he's always known he was gay but hadn't had any serious relationships and he thinks that's mostly due to the fact that

he hadn't had a lot of confidence pre-Army and hasn't had a lot of time since. But he absolutely does want a relationship. In fact, he wants to get married and he thinks it'd be nice to have a house and maybe kids or at least

a few pets. 

Then it happens that Steve starts asking questions. Which is alright at first. Until he starts asking him about his service. Where he'd been, what he'd seen and what he'd done. Then he asks if Bucky's ever seen anyone die. To

which Bucky responds that that was a rude thing to ask, not to mention thinly veiled and adds that he makes a terrible therapist. But after all Steve's done, he supposed he owes the man at least this much.

They are standing out on the fire escape and Bucky's smoking a cigarette and Steve's listening to the ridiculously sexy music from the window and watching him.

"Okay. Fine. Yeah. I had a friend who died."  He says as he takes a drag from the cigarette.

"His name was...well, we all called him Rhodey. He got out before I did." Bucky blows smoke slowly. "He didn't die overseas, though. He went home. Ate a bullet within a few weeks." Steve is completely still and quiet when

Bucky flicks the filter over the edge of the railing. Another minute passes. Steve's hand squeezes his shoulder. 

"Sorry." He says softly.

"I just remember thinking, shit. If this guy didn't make it? How the hell can I?" Bucky's breath comes out shaky around the hard lump in his throat. The silence stretches out again while Bucky gets himself under control.

Then Steve draws him in closer to his side.

"Well, you're still here." He murmurs. "So am I." 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay dear readers: this is where things get a little hot and smutty. I don't think it's any more graphic than the strong language and heavy themes of previous chapters. But if you like to take your Stucky smut-free, feel free to skip it.  
> Thank you! <3

This is also the first night that he and Steve hook up. Even though, the worst of the  withdrawal symptoms have faded, Bucky's still fighting the stiff soreness in his limbs, especially in his knee and lower back. He's been

sleeping in Steve's bed since he was at his sickest and he has yet to move out of it even though he's finally starting to feel better. He's curled up on one side, trying to get comfortable when Steve walks in. He gives

a soft groan when the bed dips behind him. 

"You okay?" Steve's kind and patient voice asks and the hand that rests on his lower back is warm enough to dissipate some of the soreness.

"Yeah." Bucky replies. "Still hurts. Mostly my back." The hand on his lower back moves up and he feels rotating

pressure on his spine. He can't help it. He tips his head back a bit, a soft moan escaping his lips. 

"Feels good." He whispers as the pressure moves up. He feels the heat spreading from the pit of his stomach, running the length of his body. And he realizes right then that he's incredibly, impossibly hard. He

might have been embarrassed, but instead he's just kind of shocked. He hasn't popped wood in months and he'd been kind of worried that maybe he'd lost the ability. When Steve's one hand comes to rest on his hip, Bucky

covers it with his own and carefully guides it down,  past the waistband of his boxers. 

For a minute, Steve freezes up. It wasn't like he didn't think something like this might happen. But he wasn't quite ready for it now that it had and he hadn't yet weighed all the moral implications of starting a

sexual relationship with an addict in very early recovery. After all, Bucky's in a vulnerable place. Hell, they both are. And he doesn't want to screw up the progress he's already made and...

And then Bucky's grinding back against him and moaning out the word, 

 _'Please.'_ and Steve's mind goes utterly blank.

He tucks himself more tightly against Bucky's body and starts rubbing across the spot on the front of his boxers until it gets wet. As he gets his hand down around him, he starts running his mouth lightly against the back

of his neck. Bucky's rocking back into the touch and it feels like every nerve of his body is on fire. It takes less than a minute. Steve moves his hand a couple of times, then before Bucky can even warn him, he's spilling out

onto Steve's fist with a whimper. Steve gives him a moment, panting for breath before he moves to give him a handful of tissue from the night stand.

Cleaned up and satisfied,  he rolls onto his opposite side. He almost sits up.

"Do you want me to - " he starts to say, but  Steve catches his hand with his own and just presses it tight against his chest. 

"No. I want you to get some rest." He rumbles. As those arms come back around him, Bucky becomes aware that he's never felt safer or more content in his entire life.


	7. Chapter 7

As far as Bucky is concerned, things only improve from that point forward. True to form, Steve does keep his promise about the dancing. Even though, he's so clearly out of his element among the flashing lights and

pulsing club music of one of Bucky's familiar haunts. It's even fine that he's able to coax Steve out onto the floor to dance with him.  Until one of the guys standing close to them snorts white powder from between

his knuckles and Steve glances first at Bucky then gestures to the exit. Bucky shakes his head. 

"It's okay." He says, or rather shouts as he loops his arms around Steve's neck. After all, he can't expect the whole world to quit using drugs, just because he'd stopped. Even though after another half hour or so, they

do leave because Bucky decides he'd rather be at home with Steve anyway. 

"I think it's supposed to be liberating." Bucky said, right after Steve told him he didn't really see the appeal of places like that. To which Steve replied that liberating was having a day off and not getting out of  bed

until noon. 

"Okay. How 'bout just to fuck hot guys, then?" Bucky said with a smirk as he pulled his shirt over his head. Steve had been sitting at the edge of the bed, untying his shoes and had straightened and curled a finger around

Bucky's belt loop, tugging him closer.

"Yeah? I can do that here, too." 

Everything is fine, until the day finally comes when Bucky wakes up and he's bored. More bored than he's ever been in his life. Boredom so deep that no amount of TV or chain-smoking can alleviate it. He's just hanging on

the back of the couch when he hears it,

 **Wanna play a game?** As clear as if someone had spoken it right next to him. And he gets a cold knot of fear in his stomach because he's played this game before and never won once. It's the one where his mind tells

him every awful thing about himself, setting him into a loop of spiraling negative thoughts until he's trapped. 

 **Everyone hates you.** It begins. And that wasn't true. Natasha doesn't hate him. Steve -

 **Tolerates you because he feels sorry for** **you.** Bucky sits up, swallowing as he starts to feel sick and his palms start sweating.

**You'll disappoint him. You disappoint everyone. You always do. You're wasting his time. He's -**

He hears the sound of a steel trap snapping shut.

**Better off without you.**

"Shut up!!" He's actually sort of grateful Steve's not here to witness him raving at himself like a damned lunatic. He gets up to let himself out onto the fire escape, shakily lighting a cigarette. 

**Just give up. Get it over with. You can do it. J** **ust one last time.**

"Fuck!" He drops the cigarette over the railing. For a minute, nausea surges and he leans over the rail, waiting to see if he's going to throw up or not. While

he fights off the nausea, his mind goes blessedly quiet. Until he leans back and it starts in again.

 **You can stop this. You know how to make it** **stop.**

His heartbeat is hammering in his ears at an alarming rate. 

 **Just one last time. Just one -** If he could just call someone. Anyone.

Natasha or Steve or even that guy at the VA. But when he takes out his phone, he doesn't dial any of those numbers. His mind is still still screaming at him when he heads out the  door.

**One last time.**


	8. Chapter 8

 Steve has his own head full of swirling thoughts to contend with when he comes home from work and Bucky is nowhere in sight. At first, he tries calm rationalization. Maybe he'd gone to his apartment to collect more of

his stuff? Or he'd had a medical appointment he'd let slip? But as the hour gets later and later and he's staring up at the bedroom ceiling in the darkness, it becomes impossible to ignore what is so obvious. Bucky's out

getting high. Because he doesn't care. And Steve's the stupid one for believing that he would behave in any other way. He'd been  warned but he'd chosen not to listen and now -

With a sigh, Steve gets up and pads out to the kitchen, knowing he won't sleep much tonight. Around 3 am, when there is a knock on the door,  Steve is both relieved and terrified to hear it. He gets up and there's a

familiar figure standing there.

"Hi." He greets.

"Hi." Bucky mutters, more to the ground than to Steve.

"I'm glad you're okay. I was worried." He says.  Finally, Bucky looks up.

"Yeah, I'm okay." He runs a hand through his hair anxiously. "Can I come in?" 

"Yeah. Okay." Steve turns, letting the door hang open behind him. Steve takes his time making coffee while Bucky crawls over and settles in a kitchen chair.

"I mean it. I really am glad you're okay." Steve says as he sets a cup in front of him. "But you can't stay here anymore." Bucky had been feeling pretty numb, but at that point his stomach drops to the floor. 

"I didn't - " he starts to say, but it's such a predictable cliché that he can't force himself to finish. 

"No? Let me see your arms then." Steve says  and when Bucky tucks his arms around  his body, protectively, he says, "Yeah.

Thought so." 

"Please. I just - " Bucky begins in a voice rising in panic.

"No. I told you. I had one rule, Buck. You use, you're gone." Steve says firmly. 

"I didn't mean to!" Bucky says. 

"Yes you did. You absolutely did mean to." 

Steve snaps back. "And you know what? It's fine. I get it. You've been through a lot. And I feel bad for you. Really, I do. But I can't..." Steve feels the tears in his throat for the first time and he has to take a minute. 

"I can't do this with you. I won't."  Bucky feels the wetness on his cheeks and the table is a watery blur.

"I'm sorry." He says softly. 

"Don't be sorry." Steve says and he quickly gets up and puts his cup in the sink.

"Just get your stuff."

 Natasha doesn't say a word when Bucky slips in the door at an ungodly hour. She takes one look at his face and quietly guides him to lay down on her mattress while she tucks herself behind him. Just like always.

And lets him cry himself into exhausted sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Steve doesn't collapse into a puddle of tears. For him, life keeps moving forward. Sort of. He gets up. Goes to work. Comes home. But everything has that bland, grey quality to it. Until one day there's a knock at the door,

and hope swells in his chest. But it's only Sam, who wants to know where's he been.

"Hey, I warned you, didn't I?" He asks, when he and Steve are sitting side-by-side on the couch. 

"It's like I said, junkies don't get better. They die. And they take more people down with 'em." Steve hands tighten into fists at his sides. 

"W-what if he gets better?" He stammers. "What if he -"

"Changes? Forget it, man." Sam cuts him off. "He's not gonna. And if you let him back in? All you're doin' is helping him die." Steve can't help it. He breaks and sobs. Like he hasn't done in a very long time. Sam's arms come

around him. 

"I know, big guy." He soothes. "It hurts. But  you're gonna have to let this one go."

 Bucky spends a few days in a haze of drugs and regret, before in a moment of clarity, he realizes that selfishness and self-pity are exactly how he'd gotten himself into this spot in the first place. So he flushes forty dollars

worth of dope down the toilet. And even that self-punishment gets old pretty fast. Because neither all the drugs in the world, or lack of them, is going to bring Steve back. So, one evening when his mind is going in circles,

he forces himself out.

 The VA hosts Narcotics Anonymous meetings every Wednesday. At first, he just stands in the doorway while chairs are being rearranged into a circle. Then a small woman with dark hair approaches him.

"You comin' in or not?" Bucky shifts, uncomfortably.

"I...uh... don't know." To his surprise, she laughs.

"If you're not sure you should be here, it means you probably should be." She explains. "Why don't you stay? You don't have to say a word. You can just listen." Bucky  lingers a bit longer, until, with a sigh, he goes to sit in a

spot close to the door.

 He listens to everything being said in the meeting. About how great things are, now that they are sober. How their lives were coming back together again. And he just feels worse and worse as he sinks down 

into the chair.  

He tries to make a quick escape after the

meeting ends. But the same woman stops him.

"Hey, wait up. You wanna talk for a minute? Looks like you have a lot on your mind."

The woman's name is Jessica and he learns that she has over three years of continuous sobriety and she has plenty of words of wisdom. None of which Bucky particularly wants to hear.

"It would be nice if there was a magic word. To help us go back in time and undo the damage we've done to ourselves and to others." She says. "But there isn't. What we can do is stop doing it. We can stop anymore

bleeding." She gives it a minute to let it sink in. "Besides, it's really not as important that others forgive us as much asit is that we forgive ourselves. Have you done that, Bucky? Have you forgiven yourself yet?"

Bucky feels the strangling tears threatening him again as he folds in on himself. 

"I don't....know if I know how to do that." Jessica gives his shoulder a light pat.

"You do it one day at a time. By moving forward one step at a time." 


	10. Chapter 10

The days drag on with regularity and Bucky keeps going to the meetings. Mostly because he finds if he doesn't, his phone won't stop ringing. And he hangs onto his sobriety with white knuckles. Until one day,as he's

stepping out of his therapist's office, he catches a familiar flash of blonde hair. For a minute he panics as the blonde turns down  the hallway and he thinks about running for it. But as the figure comes closer, he winds up

just pressing himself into the wall. Steve stops dead in his tracks. He'd been avoiding  the VA for awhile for this specific reason. When it becomes clear that Bucky isn't going to move, Steve hesitantly approaches him. 

"Um. Hey there." He greets. As though everything is fine. As though he hadn't just had his heart shattered by this man a few months before.

"Hi." Bucky murmurs, moving to wrap his arms protectively around himself.

"How you been, Buck?" Steve asks. "You look great." He looks like he's filled out some. His eyes, the ones that had always made Steve's pulse race, are clear and focused. 

"I - um. I'm okay." He swallows. "I'm ...hm. I'm clean." He doesn't know why he lets himself hope. But he says it anyway. "After we...I mean...after I went home. I started over. I've got a month and um..eight days now." 

Steve nods. 

"That-that's great. I'm happy for you." He says and after that, there's a long silence. He wants to say more. So much more. But he remembers the hard lesson he's already had. 

"Well...I should get going." He says.  Bucky's hands clench reflexively. His arm aches suddenly. 

"Okay. It was good to see you." He makes himself say words that he absolutely does not feel.  Steve searches for something else. All hecomes up with is,

"Keep up the good work." And he has to turn away suddenly or he'll say something he'll regret. "See ya." 

"Bye..." Bucky replies, his voice hollow and empty.

When meeting time rolls around, Bucky tries to ignore his phone as it rings over and over. Finally, he picks it up on what must be the twentieth vibration.

"What?" He asks. The voice on the other end is both familiar and expected.

"Where are you?" Jessica asks. 

"Home. And I don't want to go anywhere so you can stop calling." He replies.

"But I miss your stupid face." She pauses."Did something happen?" Bucky clenches the phone more tightly and considers hanging up. 

"Yes.No. I saw my ex... boyfriend or whatever." 

"Hm." She says. "Did he say anything?" 

"No!" He yelps. "He didn't say anything! I told him I was clean and he just..said...good for me. Basically."

"Oh wow. That must have been hard." She tells him. Then there's another long pause before,

"Well, do you think if you sit

there, it'll help? I mean. Will it make you feel better?" Bucky scrubs at his face with his sleeve. 

"I don't know. No." There's a long silence on the other end.

"So...then." She prompts. Bucky lets out a shaky breath. 

"Okay. Yeah. I'm coming." He says. That was the first night he spoke in a meeting.

 


	11. Chapter 11

On a Wednesday night, Steve is surprised when his phone rings and it's Sam on the other end, asking if he wants to grab a bite to eat.

"You know I've got the group thing, but after that, I'm free." He'd said. Generally, they meet for lunch or have coffee after a morning run. But he agrees that he'd swing by after six thirty.

When he gets down to the VA, he doesn't see Sam immediately. The hallways are dark so he also fails to see the bright orange flyers advertising the Narcotics Anonymous meetings, to immediately follow the PTSD group.

From the very end of the hallway, he can see the bright light pouring out of a door that's been propped open. The closer he gets, the better he recognizes the voice at the other end of the hallway and it makes his stomach

go tight with knots. It's Bucky, standing there in front of a crowd of on-lookers and he's talking to them. 

"I know I've been talking about this a lot. And I'm sure you're all tired of hearin' about it." 

Soft laughter goes around the room. 

"But I'm still having a pretty hard time with it." Bucky looks down.

"I had this guy I was seeing and he really helped me out." Steve knows he should move, but he's glued to the spot. "I really liked him. No, scratch that. I think I was in love with him. Like, maybe he was the

one? But I really screwed him over. With my using." Bucky finally looks up again. Steve can see clearly even from where he stands  that he's choked up.  "And it hurts real bad. Thinkin' now I'll be

alone forever 'cause the guy I was supposed to be with - I pushed him away." At that point, he has to stop and collect himself before he can go on.

"Anyway." He gives a sigh. "I'm not gonna use over it. 'Cause it seems like.. it'd be disrespectin' his memory. Plus. Someone told me, you can't change the past, but you can stop the bleeding." He glances over at a

dark haired woman. "So...I don't know. That's really all I got. I'm just gonna keep doin' the deal. 'Til it gets better. Thanks." He quickly takes his seat and the dark haired woman claps him on the back. Steve's been so

riveted that he hadn't heard the noise behind him and he nearly jumps out of his skin when Sam says,

"Hey, man." Steve spins around and Sam's got a knowing grin on his face.

"You ready to go? I mean. Unless you got somethin' else you gotta do."


	12. Chapter 12

To be fair, Sam Wilson didn't know that Bucky was going to be speaking. Or specifically, that he would be speaking about Steve. What he did know is that he had watched the guy come in and out of meetings with regularity.

He runs into Jessica quite often, the lady the runs the NA meetings, given the fact that her group is held in the same room as Sam's PTSD group. One evening, while she and the guy are setting up chairs and making coffee,

Jessica brings the guy over and says,

"Hi Sam, this is Bucky." And Sam takes one look and knows that this Bucky is Steve's Bucky. In all honesty, it's not like there are a whole lot of guys named Bucky wandering around. Especially guys named Bucky that are

vets in recovery. And as protective as Sam is of Steve, he's also watched his blonde-haired buddy walk around like the living dead for a few months. Right then, he decides he's going to step in on fate's territory.

"So?" Sam asks, still grinning. "What's it gonna be?" Steve shifts, glancing toward the open doorway as people come out.

"Yeah. Guess, I'll uh, catch you later." He says.

When the enormous blonde dude walks into the room, Jessica glances over and can't help the small smile at her gut instincts telling her that the guy is looking for her friend.

"Bucky." She murmurs. Bucky pauses, setting down the chair he'd been in the process of moving and nearly drops it when he catches sight of Steve.

"Oh. Hey." He mumbles as Steve approaches him. "We'll be outta here in just a minute." Steve shakes his head.

"No, I - I just....can I talk to you? For a minute?" he asks. Bucky considers this before nodding and following Steve out of the building out front. For awhile, neither of them says anything as Bucky sits down on the steps and lights

a cigarette. His one last true vice. Then Steve says,

"So, I heard....um. I heard you talking." Bucky glances over at him and while he doesn't blush the way Steve does, he manages to go an impressive shade of crimson.

"You - you heard all that?" He stammers.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to - " Steve starts, then charges on ahead. "I was supposed to meet up with Sam and I was just....anyway. It doesn't matter. Did you...actually mean all that? About being in love with me?"

If possible, Bucky's complexion goes a bit darker.

"Yeah. I didn't know you were gonna be standing right there, if that's what you mean." He quickly takes a drag on his cigarette, to give himself something else to focus on. Steve thinks for a minute, then says,  
  
"Well, that's a lot to - to take in. I didn't realize you felt that strongly about. About me." He finishes. He finally lowers himself so that he's sitting next to the dark haired man. "And I was thinking, it seems like you're doin'

great and really workin' on yourself. And...so..." He trails off into silence for so long that Bucky has to say something.  
  
"And so?" He asks.  
  
"And so, I was thinkin' maybe we could...give this thing another shot? You and me?" Bucky sucks on his cigarette again, watching the smoke evaporate into the air. To Steve's utter shock, he mutters,  
  
"I don't know if that's such a great idea." Steve glances over at him.  
  
"You...what? I thought, that stuff you said - "   
  
"And I meant it. Every word. But that doesn't mean - Look - " Bucky leans over to crush out the filter on the sidewalk. "Thing is, I know what I did was wrong? But you...I mean...you really hurt me too." Steve actually has to  
  
bite down on his tongue to keep a few choice phrases from tumbling out of his mouth. He forces himself to just say,  
  
"Okay."   
  
"When you....hm..." Bucky searches for another word for abandonment. "When you kicked me out? I was in a pretty dark place. I was more alone than I'd ever been and I don't know if I can do that again." He says. "Thing  
  
is, if you really love someone? You don't just...just give up on them. When they screw up or go through a bad time." Steve can't help it.  
  
"So what? You put a needle in your arm, I'm supposed to forgive you? Just pretend it never happened?" He asks. Bucky sighs.  
  
"I didn't say that. All I'm saying is, what I really need right now. Is a strong support system." He says. "And I don't know that you're able to give me that." He doesn't say Steve's clearly not, as he'd demonstrated as much,  
  
which is what he's actually thinking. Despite himself, Steve has to admit that all of this makes sense. Painful as it is.  
  
"I guess I understand that." They both go quiet again, trying to take in the hurtful conclusion they'd come to. Then Steve says,  
  
"Well, what if - what if you'd be willing to give me another chance?" He pauses. "Like, start over."   
  
"How'dya mean?" Bucky asks.  
  
"Like, we both put the past behind us. Start over. You put your sobriety first. And you give me another chance to prove I can be a supportive partner. Like, we both give each other a second chance." Steve replies.  
  
"I don't think - " Bucky starts to say, but then Steve says,  
  
"I don't mean, move in together. Go back to where we left off. I mean, like. Maybe go out to dinner. Or for coffee. Really start over. See if - if we still work together." Bucky presses his lips together, thinking.  
  
"That might work." He begins to say slowly. "Might...." he pauses. "Can you give me a chance to think it over?" Steve nods.  
  
"Of course. I wouldn't want you to jump into anything that could put your sobriety in jeopardy." He starts to stand up and holds out a hand to help Bucky to his feet. "Think it over. Let me know." he gives another pause.  
  
"Would it be okay....could I kiss you?" He asks and Bucky just thinks. Stupid Steve. With his stupid charm. And perfect manners. Dammit. And can't help saying,  
  
"Yeah. That might be okay?" Steve slides his arms around Bucky's waist and leans in and dammit again. The stupid fireworks go off in Bucky's head. And he has to pull away before he goes back on all the responsible, well-  
  
thought plans he'd already made. Steve starts to turn away, grinning like an idiot and says over his shoulder,  
  
"Think it through, Buck. Let me know." Bucky stands there, knees half jelly and says,  
  
"Okay. I will." 


	13. Chapter 13

"So?" Jessica asks after they'd closed up the meeting room and started to walk to the cafe they often had coffee at post-meeting.  
  
"So, he said. He wants to try again. Wants us to start over." Bucky says, flushing slightly.  
  
"And you said?" She presses.   
  
"And I said. I didn't know. That I had to think about it." Bucky replies as he shoves his hands more deeply into his pockets.   
  
"Hm." Jessica considers this. "It's good that you're not just jumping in. That you're giving it time to sink in." She says. "Are you leaning in one direction or  - "  
  
"I don't know. I really think, I mean. You know what the rule is. One year. No relationships for one year." To Bucky's surprise, Jessica says,  
  
"Yeah. Generally. That's the rule of thumb...." She takes a breath. "But, on the other hand, it's not like this is a new relationship. It's a relationship that you were already involved in prior to your getting sober. And so, that's a little  
  
different." Bucky sighs. He'd like to think that Jessica's cryptic words of wisdom were helpful, but at times, they are just confusing.  
  
"So, you're saying I should?" He asks. She shakes her head.  
  
"I'm not saying anything." She stops to hold the door open for Bucky. "This is your recovery. And your relationship. You're on your own with this one. But, I do think you should weigh the pros and cons. Then go forward from  
  
there."  
  
Bucky can't sleep that night. He's thrilled and scared all at the same time. Thrilled that Steve would consider getting back together. Terrified that it'll all go down in flames, like it did the last time, and that he'll have to live  
  
through all that pain and heartbreak a second time. But when he pictures what he wants his future to look like. How he wants to spend the rest of his life. And he pictures a loving, supportive relationship and Steve is the only   
  
one he can see filling that space, he knows he's come to a decision. Just like Jessica said he would. The following afternoon, when he dials Steve's number and the phone starts ringing, his heart starts racing anxiously.  
  
Finally, Steve picks up on the fifth ring.  
  
"Hello?" He says.   
  
"Hey. It's um, it's me." Bucky murmurs.  
  
"Oh hey." Steve replies.   
  
"So. I was thinking about what you said? About starting over?" Bucky can feels the heat on his cheeks.   
  
"And?" Steve asks and he's already smiling.   
  
"And I think that might...be nice." Bucky finishes. "So...so if you'd want to meet tomorrow night?" Steve has to keep his enthusiasm in check.  
  
"Tomorrow sounds great. Like, maybe 8?"   
  
"Perfect." Bucky replies. "  
  
They last exactly two dates, before Steve invites him over for dinner at his apartment. They chat companionably during the meal, about how Bucky is going to start working at the VA and he's going to start sponsoring  
  
people in his group, because Jessica thinks he has a unique and special perspective to help other veterans who've fallen victim to drug addiction and Steve says that he thinks that's a wonderful idea and that he's happy  
  
that Bucky has found a way to give back to the community. Then after dinner, when Bucky is helping Steve clean up, Steve plays I'd Rather Go Blind by Etta James and asks Bucky to dance with him, right there in the kitchen.  
  
And Bucky almost cries, because he realizes how much he'd missed Steve's stupid, sexy music and he tells Steve that he's a great big sap, but he loops his arms around the blonde's neck anyway. Then sometime during the

song, Steve leans down to kiss him and Bucky's done. After that, they're clawing at each other in a mad dash to see who can get their clothes off the fastest.   
  
Afterwards, when Bucky is laying curled up on Steve's broad chest and drawing patterns of circles on his skin, he says,  
  
"So, are we. Is this a relationship?" He asks. Steve catches his hand and laces their fingers together and says,  
  
"Is that what you want?" and Bucky only has to think about it briefly.  
  
"Yeah. I do."   
  
"Okay." Steve replies. "But I have to be honest. I don't really want to be your boyfriend." He says and Bucky's chest goes tight. Until Steve goes on to say,  
  
"I mean, I don't wanna be  _just_ your boyfriend. I want to be...your partner. And your lover. And your best friend. And I want it to be forever." And then Bucky does maybe cry. A little. And it's all he can do to whisper,  
  
"Okay." 


End file.
